Slopes of Avalon
by veramo
Summary: With their most dangerous mission ahead of them, Arthur and his knights cannot afford to get lost in the ideas of freedom and pleasure. However Gawain still wants to find a beautiful Sarmatian woman to marry, and Lancelot did say he was planning on spending a lot of time with her. L/OC/G
1. Caravan

Chapter One

The hills of Briton rolled by as the riders crested over a lush green peak. Trees lined their flanks and the smell of fresh rain and pine infiltrated the noses of the eight individuals on horseback. One large man in the center sat proudly on his horse with a distinct Roman appearance to him while the others surrounding this man had foreign and fierce guises. This man gazed out on the horizon at a looming caravan that was slowly making its way towards them from the southern ports. To the north of where they stood sat a 73-mile long wall that was waiting to elope the caravan in its stony arms and bid the eight riders their much-needed freedom. Bittersweet happiness swelled in Arthur's chest as he welcomed the idea of giving his remaining knights the freedom they sought out, but the ever-gnawing reminder of all those men he lost within the last 15 years played in the back of his mind.

"Ah, as promised, the Bishop's carriage," stated a knight to the right of Arthur with tangled blonde hair that lay over his shoulders in messy torrents.

"Our freedom Bors," said the younger knight to the right of the blonde with curly brown hair and a boyish glint in his eye. His grin held a hint of mischievousness to it as he spoke directly to a rotund bald knight directly to Arthurs left.

"Mmmmmm, I can almost taste it," said the bald man with a direct wink to the shadowy knight to his left.

"And your passage to Rome, Arthur," added another bald knight at the end of the line to Arthur's left. Unlike the other bald knight, this one was built of pure muscle and looked like the giants that left the land many decades earlier.

"Try not to forget us in your Rome," said a man with curly black hair and a sharp face. He sat next to the shadowy knight on his tall black horse. Said knight sat on a horse of pure white with a large brown cloak of wool covering the hair of the knight and blacking out the face with shadows. The knight sat there stoic and quiet, never removing the hood nor breaking their gaze from the oncoming caravan.

As sudden as lightening, blue men and women began to run out of the woods to the left of the caravan with weapons and fire in their pale eyes. Screams of battle and anger floated through the air as they moved to attack the caravan and its Roman defenders.

"Woads!" exclaimed the knight with tangled black hair and tattoos on his cheeks. The eight knights spurred into action, rearing their horses into the small battle before them. Coming down the hill, a traditional Sarmatian roar sounded from the line giving the overwhelmed Romans some sliver of bright hope.

Weapons were drawn and steel clashed while Arthur rode down and decapitated a Woad who just freshly did the same to a Roman soldier. Lancelot, Bors, and the shadowy knight quickly dismounted their horses and drew their respective weapons. Arthur remained mounted on his horse fighting Woads off of his war-horse. Gawain was tackled to the ground after peaking into the Bishops carriage, and with a great growl took down two Woads at once. Dagonet dove into a small stream taking down four Woads into the water and quickly dispatching them turning the water red.

Galahad stayed astride his horse taking down strays one by one with arrows like Tristan until the latter came to the ground in a smooth move and circled his sword slowly beckoning the blue demons to attack him. Lancelot took down countless men with his twin swords, slicing and cutting with ease. Bors and his short hand knives punched the life out of many Woads that tried to come at the brutal man with inexperience and a bit too much zeal. Many lay on the bloody ground with no teeth and their heads split apart. In contrast to Bor's brutal methods the shadowed knight took down attackers with silence and even swings of their swords, no missteps or hesitation, showing the true killer underneath the large brown cloak.

Soon the screams of war and fighting turned into shouts of pain and mercy. The Woads retreated back into the woods and the Sarmatians and Romans looked around in exhaustion and relief, waiting for stray attacks to come their way. Bors, Gawain, and the cloaked knight gathered around the carriage peering into the wooden structure at the mess that was once Bishop Germanus. Now it was Bishop Germanus with an arrow through his head.

"Benedictus fructus ventris tui, lesus. Benedicta tu in mulieribus," whispered a weak and shaking voice from under the carriage. There sat a skinny man with a rosary in his quivering hands, tears rolling down his dirty face.

Gawain crouched low and threw his knife into the ground to clean his sharp battle-axe. Peering at the man, he sneered in contempt of his religious fervor. "Save your prayers, boy. Your god doesn't live here." He growled.

"Bors?" asked Arthur coming up to the trio by the carriage.

"What a bloody mess," said Bors pointing into the carriage.

Peering into the carriage, a small look of confusion came over the Roman commander's face. "That's not the Bishop," he slowly drawled.

Arthur moved away from the carriage as Bors began to harass the small man that was under the carriage. Looking intently into the faces of the surviving Roman soldiers who remained on their horses, Arthur tried to find the aged face of the Bishop. Feeling uneasy, many of the Roman soldiers placed their hands on their swords and began to draw them at the sight of the rugged and battle-hardened Briton-Roman.

"Stand down!" cried a voice of authority. All the Roman soldiers reluctantly removed their hands off their weapons and tried to relax but failed to do so under the gazes of the fierce Sarmatians. A Roman soldier came forward and grinned at Arthur beneath his helm. "Arthur! Arthur Castus. You're your father's image. I haven't seen you since childhood," he said grinning down at Arthur. He looked older; like he didn't belong in the armor he was wearing.

"Bishop Germanus," Arthur replied with a slight grin. "Welcome to Briton. I see your military skills are still of use to you," he said nodding to Germanus' armor. "And I see your device worked." They both glanced towards the carriage as two Roman soldiers were removing the dead body of the Bishop's decoy.

"Ancient tricks of an ancient dog," Germanus' said shrugging nonchalantly. His eyes scanned over the knights that gathered behind Arthur, all had looks of contempt and hatred as they gazed at the Bishop and the soldiers behind him. "And these are the great Sarmatian knights we have heard so much about in Rome." He paused and attempted a smile at the solemn knights, not noticing the one with the cloak over his eyes moved to stand behind the large black horse of Lancelot. Once he realized that none of the knights was willing to smile back at him, he continued. "I thought the Woads controlled the north of Hadrian's Wall."

"They do, but they occasionally venture south," stated Arthur. "Rome's anticipated withdrawal from Briton has only increased their daring."

"Woads?" asked the small man who was hiding and praying under the carriage.

"British rebels who hate Rome," growled Gawain.

"Men who want their country back," added Galahad, venom laced into every word.

"Who leads them?" asked the Bishop, just adding to the knight's impatience.

"He's called Merlin. A dark magician some say," said Lancelot with a dark glared pressed to the Bishop.

"Ahhh, sorcery," hissed the Bishop in Lancelot's direction. However, Germanus wasn't looking at Lancelot, he was looking behind him at the brown cloak that seemed to be peeking out from over Lancelot's saddle. His eyes went from confused, to shocked, to angry, then back to confused as he tried to decipher what he was seeing through the shadows of the cloak the figure was wearing.

As protective as ever, Lancelot followed the Bishop's line of sight to the figure standing behind him. He glared at the older man, challenging him silently with his grey eyes.

"Arthur, I was unaware there was a woman in your company," the Bishop said, not bothering to disguise the contempt in his heavily accented voice. A ripple of gasps ran between the line of Roman soldiers that flanked the Bishop. Galahad and Gawain chucked while Bors made a spectacle with loud guffawing. Lancelot continued to glare daggers at the Bishop, which the older man seemed to ignore.

Arthur turned away from the Bishop to look at the covered knight behind his second-in-command. The woman looked directly at Arthur over Lancelot's horse, as if asking for permission to step forward. Their gazes met and Arthur slowly nodded his head granting her authorization to come and confront the Bishop.

Slowly, as if she were a tiger looking at her prey, the woman moved around the horse to come and stand next to Arthur. A small gust of wind moved through the area and caused the brown cloak to swirl around her body revealing a pair of toned and skinny legs covered by black breeches that were tucked into armored boots. Lancelot shifted uncomfortably in his saddle as he moved his gaze from the Bishop, to the back of the cloaked woman, then back to the Bishop. The other knights were void of their previous amusement, and Arthur could feel their nervousness rolling off in waves. They accepted the woman into their group easily, but there was no telling what the relentless Bishop would feel. The woman came to stand before the man next to Arthur, her head held high under the wool of the cloak while her shadowed eyes never left the face of the older Bishop.

"Remove your hood," the Bishop snapped at the covered woman before him as his hand came to rest on the sword on his side. Behind the three the distinct sound of swords being unsheathed rang out as Gawain and Lancelot brought out their weapons. The Roman soldiers behind the Bishop in turn also brought out their weapons as a response to his hostile move by the two knights on horseback.

"Stand down," came the clear and airy voice of the woman before the Bishop. Her voice rang out to the Romans and the Sarmatians, and the latter slowly sheathed their weapons but kept their glares pointed at the Bishop. However the Romans, still distrusting of the knights before them, only lowered their weapons.

Turning to look behind her at the knights she rode into battle with, the woman slowly reached up and grasped the hem of her hood. Slowly returning to look directly at the Bishop, the woman removed her hood revealing her face to the Romans before her.

The Bishops eyebrows shot up under his helm as he took in her face and the similarities to the seated knight with the black curly hair. Her face had some of the same sharp angles, but they were more feminine and gave her more graceful cheekbones. Her lips were slightly plumper and her nose smaller, but it was obvious that the two were related. A pink scar that ran from below her left eye straight up into her hairline marred her white skin and seemed to make her grey eyes even fiercer. Her black hair matched the knights perfectly in color as its long wavy tendrils flowed over her back and shoulders. Her light armor was dark grey in color and her leather bodice looked worn, but her twin swords hung off her hips with a wicked black handle that glimmered in the sunlight. She looked as vicious and dangerous as the knights that stood behind her, and that made the Bishop shift uncomfortably in his saddle as her grey eyes bore into him.

"What kind of witch tricks a Roman commander into letting her into his ranks?" spat the Bishop towards her. The sound of swords coming out of their scabbards was heard again; this time Galahad and Tristan joined Lancelot and Gawain in drawing their weapons

"Ragnelle is no witch," Arthur said in her defense as he moved to place her behind him, wearily watching the Roman soldiers flanking the Bishop hold their swords higher. "She is simply the sister of my second, Lancelot."

The Bishop glanced at the woman behind Arthur once more, then to the knight holding twin blades on horseback. Said knight was contemplating running him through with a dangerous look in his stormy grey eyes. With a nod of his head, the Bishop dismounted his horse and waved at his soldiers in a signal to put away their weapons. Apprehensively they obeyed their orders, but not before shooting all the knights and the woman weary looks. The Bishop moved to the carriage and took off his helmet, showing to the company how truly old he is.

"Tristan," Arthur continued as he lightly pushed the woman towards her horse then mounted his, "Ride ahead and make sure the road is clear. Please do not worry, Bishop. We will protect you."

Bishop Germanus stood before the door of the carriage and scanned his eyes over the knights in Arthur's command. His old brown eyes lingered on Ragnelle who had since mounted her stallion and stood tall next to her brother. She didn't flinch under his intense gaze, and actually returned it with an intensity of her own.

"I have no doubt commander," he said never taking his eyes off Ragnelle. "No doubt."

* * *

AN: This idea has been swimming around in my mind for months and I just had to get it down or I'd go crazy. I have four chapters finished and I will be posting at least one a week until I return to University in August.

Ragnelle is being taken from the story of Gawain and Ragnelle where he married her and freed her from a curse of haggardness. I simply borrowed the name and I am not adhering to her original myth.

**A VERY LARGE HEADS UP: This story will have suggestive themes that may make certain readers uncomfortable. If you wish to know what to expect from future chapters, DM me and I will give you a simple idea on what themes I may be touching upon and then you can decide for yourself if you wish to continue reading this story. I will not be changing my story to fit other peoples ideas of acceptable. **


	2. Papers

Chapter Two

"Well, now that we are free men, I'm going to drink till I can't piss straight," Bors chuckled as the knights and the caravan made their way to Hadrian's Wall. A few hours after the Woad attack on the road the sun was shining on the island, clearing up the fog and making the grasses sparkle with dew. The knights rode before the carriage holding the Bishop while the Roman soldiers pulled up the rear. Bors was riding with Gawain and Ragnelle on his right while Galahad and Tristan rode on the left. The air around them was electric with both anticipation and irritation at the reluctance of the Bishop to simply hand over their discharge papers and let them be.

"You do that every night," interjected Gawain, earning a chuckle from the surrounding knights and Lancelot and Dag behind them.

"I never could piss straight," Bors mused, "Too much of myself to handle down there. It's a problem." This earned a loud laugh from Ragnelle, which caught the attention of Gawain. The blonde knight looked at the woman beside him and winked, causing a blush to come over her white cheeks before they both turned their attention back to the raving Bors. "No, really it's a problem. It's like a baby's arm holding an apple."

"A baby's arm holding an apple. Lovely Bors," retorted Ragnelle, feeling both amused and uncomfortable at the ensuing conversation. All she knew was that her breeches were chaffing her legs under the rare Briton sun and she couldn't wait to get back to the wall and bathe.

"I don't like him," Galahad said changing the subject and nodding his head back towards the carriage behind them. "If he's here to discharge us, why doesn't he just give us our papers?"

"Is this your happy face?" asked Gawain sarcastically causing Bors, Galahad and Ragnelle to crack smiles. Always one to break the tension, Gawain was by far Ragnelle's favorite companion behind her own brother. He always knew how to make her feel better by just looking at her with his piercing blue eyes. "Galahad do you still not know the Romans?" he continued, "They won't scratch their asses without holding a ceremony."

"Galahad just try to be patient," Ragnelle quickly put in so Gawain would not hurl another indirect insult to both their commander and the men traveling with them. They continued to canter on, and Gawain looked at her with one golden eyebrow arched over his eye and a smirk on his face. Ragnelle felt her face heat up once more under his gaze.

"Why don't you just kill him and discharge yourself after?" Bors asked the younger knight with amusement in his voice.

"I don't kill for pleasure," he spat back at Bors venomously while covertly taking a glance at the scout next to him, "Unlike some."

"You should try it some day. You might get a taste for it," Tristan said nonchalantly as he spurred his horse ahead so as to trot behind Arthur.

"This," Ragnelle said as she nodded to their surroundings and addressing Galahad once more, "is a part of you. It's in your blood, Galahad."

"No," Galahad bitterly laughed shaking his head. "No, as of tomorrow this was all just a bad memory." He lightly spurred his horse forward like Tristan, leaving Gawain, Bors, and Ragnelle behind him.

"I've often thought about what going home would mean after all this," said Gawain thoughtfully. "What will I do? It's different for Galahad. I've been in this life longer than the other. So much for home. It's not so clear in my memory." His tone was bitter as he stared straight ahead at the oncoming gates that would open up to the base that the knights made their home.

"You speak for yourself," added Bors, "It's cold back there and everyone I know is dead and buried." He looked deep in thought for a moment before continuing, "Besides, I have, I think, a dozen children."

"Eleven," shot out Ragnelle with a small smile.

"Both of you listen," Bors said pointing to Gawain and Ragnelle, "When the Romans leave here, we'll have the run of all this place. I'll be governor in my own village and Dagonet will be my personal guard and royal ass-kisser. Won't you, Dag?" Dagonet didn't even acknowledge the fat mans ranting. He knew that Bors would never leave this island no matter how much he wanted to.

"First thing I will do when I am free is find a beautiful Sarmatian woman to wed," mused Gawain, causing Bors to chuckle and Ragnelle to get a stirring in her stomach.

"A beautiful Sarmatian woman?" Bors asked with a smile. "Why do you think we left in the first place? Mooooo!" Gawain could not resist laughing loudly while Ragnelle just glared at Bors with mirth in her grey eyes.

"Bors," came the voice of Lancelot as he came up to ride next to the fat warrior. "Did I just hear you call my sister a cow?" he asked with venom dripping from every word. Bors couldn't say anything; he just simply swallowed and glanced between the twins nervously. Ragnelle simply smirked at her brother and was more amused than insulted at this point as she watched Bors sit uncomfortably in his saddle.

"What about you, Lancelot?" Galahad called out from in front of them, breaking the tension that they all felt between Lancelot and Bors. "What are your plans for home?"

The dark knight smirked, and Ragnelle knew that his mind was concocting the perfect response to make one of their fellow knights very uncomfortable. "Well, if this woman of Gawain's is as beautiful as he claims, I expect to be spending a lot of time at Gawain's house," he said looking directly in the blonde knights eyes. "His wife will welcome the company."

"I see," Gawain said narrowing his eyes at his comrade. "And what will I be doing?"

"Wondering at your good fortune that all your children look like me," Lancelot simply stated, earning a chuckle from Bors and Galahad as he moved his horse to ride next to Arthur. Ragnelle simply glared at the back of her brother's head as he moved forward. Sensing her scowl, Lancelot turned to look back at her and winked causing Ragnelle to intensify her glower.

"Is that before or after I hit you with my ax?" Gawain asked, also glaring at the mop of black curls before him. Gawain knew that Ragnelle was uncomfortable at her brother's man-whoring ways, but he thought that Lancelot's actions reflected poorly on the beautiful Sarmatian woman riding next to him.

* * *

The gates were open and the train of riders and carriages ran though the gates of Castellum. Entering the courtyard before the stables the knights were greeted by their loyal Jols and two stable boys who came to take their horses. Gareth, Ragnelle's personal favorite, took her large white stallion to her personal stall but not before slipping the female warrior a small piece of parchment.

After the Bishop excused himself to take over Arthur's personal chambers, the knights all left to their respective quarters with the exception of Bors who went to the tavern with his mistress Vanora and his eleven children. Ragnelle lingered behind in the stables, watching Gareth tend to her horse. Reading the note clutched in her callused hands over and over, anger, amusement, and a hint of lust began to bubble up in her stomach

_Meet me in the armory_

That's all the note said, but to her it spoke volumes. The familiar handwriting was beckoning her into the hands of utter passion and ecstasy but she had a game that she wanted to play for the sake of enjoyment. The jokes that were said on the road to Castellum put her in a mood that could simply be described as irritable due to their careless nature. Her self-righteousness and pride caused her to not take jests about women lightly, especially when her brothers in arms were the ones cracking them.

Ragnelle decided that the author of the note deserves to suffer. She would not meet them in the armory; rather she would retire to her rooms and take a long bath before the meeting at the round table. She left the stables and hurriedly rushed to the knight's quarters. Many people moved out of the way for the fierce female knight that had made her way into Commander Castus' inner circle. No one bothered to stop the woman with stormy grey eyes and blood stained armor as she all but ran to her destination. Either by fear or respect, a clear path was made for her as she made her way through the fortress and into the large brick building that housed the knights of Arthur's round table.

By the time Ragnelle reached her decently sized room, she was more than ready to shed her light armor and tight breeches. Stopping and asking a passing maid to bring a bronze tub and hot water to her room, Ragnelle began to peel off layers of clothes while waiting for the maids to bring her a bath. Soon enough a medium sized bronze tub and buckets of steaming water were brought to her along with some course wool towels and oils for her hair. Stripped down to nothing, Ragnelle placed herself deep in the hot water and relaxed as the dirt and sweat drifted off her skin. Scrubbing herself raw with a small piece of rosemary soap and rinsing her hair with scented oils, Ragnelle sat in the water until it turned brown and murky. It had been a week since her last good bath and days on the roads with the knights took a toll on her personal cleanliness.

Removing herself from the water, she wrung out her long black hair with a towel and put on a simple white cotton dress and a brown leather corset and belt. She put a gold medallion around her neck that Gawain had gifted her when she was accepted into Arthur's company as one of his knights. It was her most prized possession because it reminded her of the golden knight and her commitment to become a warrior like her father and brother. The simple gold disk had a horse engraved into it to symbolize her Sarmatian heritage while a simple gold chain held it up to her chest. Deciding to not take a cloak, Ragnelle plaited her hair and made her way to Arthur's war-room where the legendary round table sat. Wet hair and all, people still made way as she walked the short distance from the knight's quarters to the war-rooms.

Entering the Roman-esque building, Ragnelle made her way into the round-table chambers with her head held high at the anticipation of knowing that she really pissed off the author of her note. Entering the red and gold chamber, Ragnelle saw that she was only the third person to arrive as Arthur and Tristan were standing near the entrance deep in conversation. They both stopped speaking when she entered and Tristan gave her a subtle nod while Arthur smiled at the girl he considered to be his little sister. Smiling back at her commander, Ragnelle made her way over to her usual seat. Over twenty chairs sat at the large table, and only eight were still in use. The thought made Ragnelle's stomach turn as she sat down and remembered Erec who was the most recent knight to fall. Woads two months prior cut him down. Ragnelle didn't particularly like Erec because he was a bigger womanizer than her brother, but he was still a knight nonetheless.

After moments of simply sitting in her seat as Arthur and Tristan kept discussing Woad movements, the rest of the knights slowly began to trickle in and take their respective seats. Dagonet and an already tipsy Bors entered first, followed by Gawain who simple stared at Ragnelle, then Galahad, and finally Ragnelle's own brother. Lancelot looked particularly peeved as he entered the chamber and plopped down in the seat next to Ragnelle. He stared straight ahead with a dark look in his eyes, not even looking at his sister. Like her brother Ragnelle stared straight at a jug of wine sitting on the opposite side of the table.

"Ragnelle," Arthur said causing her to break from her intense staring contest with the jug. Tristan moved to his seat and Arthur stood behind his next to Lancelot. "The Bishop has taken over my chambers for his stay here. I would ask of you and your brother to share quarters for the duration of his stay."

Unable to refuse Arthur, Ragnelle put on a tight smile and briefly nodded at Arthur. She returned to staring intently at the jug before her. Soon enough, the door opened and in scurried the little man that the Bishop brought with him. He looked around the room in shock before opening his mouth.

"His Eminence, Bishop Naius Germanus," he announced. "A round table? What sort of evil is this?" Ragnelle couldn't help but smirk at his remarks. In one day the Bishop and his secretary have seen enough 'witchcraft' to last a lifetime. The Bishop walked in a hesitated at the threshold, but slowly made his way to a chair next to Arthur, a look of disgust never leaving his face.

"I was given to understand there would be more of you," he stated looking around at the empty chairs lining the table.

"There were," Arthur stated, "We have been fighting here for 15 years, Bishop."

"Oh, of course," the Bishop said waving his hands. "Arthur and his knights have served with courage to maintain the honor of Rome's empire on this last outpost of our glory. Rome is most indebted to you noble knights." He beckoned his assistant to open the doors and allow multiple servants carrying gold goblets into the room. Each knight, except for Ragnelle, was given a golden cup filled with wine. All the knights looked furious at this small disrespect on the part of the Bishop. They believed that Ragnelle was an equal and deserved all the respect that they were shown. None of them bothered to touch the wine that the Bishop set before them.

"To your final days as servants to the empire," Germanus toasted. No knight at the table raised their golden cups. They only raised the basic goblets that were standard at the table.

"Day. Not days," Lancelot interjected earning a small smile and shrug from the pompous Bishop.

"The Pope's taken a personal interest in you," said Germanus. "He inquires after each of you, and is curious to know if your knights have converted to the word of Our Savior or...?"

"They retain the religion of their forefathers. I have never questioned that," said Arthur quickly.

"Of course, of course. They are pagans. Hm?" he said looking around the table at the faces of each knight, except for Ragnelle. "For our part, the Church has deemed such beliefs innocence, but you, Arthur, your path to God is through Pelagius? I saw his image in your room."

A small smile came to Arthur's face as he thought of his mentor and friend. "He took my father's place for me. His teachings on free will and equality have been a great influence. I look forward to our reunion in Rome," Arthur told him in a hopeful tone.

"Ah. Rome awaits your arrival with great anticipation!" Germanus exclaimed sitting back in his chair and waving his arms around like a lunatic. "You are a hero. In Rome, you will live out your days in honor and wealth. Alas...Alas, we are all but players in an ever-changing world. Barbarians from every corner are almost at Rome's door." The Bishop's assistant brought out an intricate wooden box that caused all the knights at the table to stand except for Ragnelle, Lancelot, and Arthur. Their anticipation hung like fog in the air. "Because of this, Rome and the Holy Father have decided to remove ourselves from indefensible outposts, such as Britain. What will become of Britain is not our concern anymore. I suppose the Saxons will claim it soon."

"Saxons?" Arthur asked.

"Yes," Germanus answered. "In the north a massive Saxon incursion has begun."

"The Saxons only claim what they kill," Lancelot said in a bitter tone.

"And only kill everything," mumbled Gawain. He looked at Ragnelle with a sad look in his eyes, causing the woman to blush for the umpteenth time that day. Lancelot, noticing the interactions between his brother-in-arms and twin, looked between the two with anger and confusion. Being his sister, Lancelot was especially protective over Ragnelle.

"So you would just leave the land to the Woads?" asked Galahad angrily. "I risked my life for nothing?" The small quiver in his voice showed that the youngest knight was quickly becoming angry.

With a smile, the Bishop looked around the table once more. "Gentlemen, your discharge papers with safe conduct throughout the Roman Empire," he announced. Lancelot and Ragnelle stood up when he opened the box to reveal seven scrolls. Galahad and Gawain looked like ravenous wolves as they stared at the papers and Ragnelle actually believed that they would leap across the table and take theirs with their teeth. Being that Ragnelle was a girl, she was never sworn in by the Romans in the first place and therefore was a freewoman from the beginning. She simply wanted her brothers to be free.

"But first, I must have a word with your commander, in private," announced the Bishop causing the knights to look at him in disbelief and anger. How could this pompous fool wave their papers around like sweets then ask them to leave?

"We have no secrets," Arthur told him plainly gesturing to all the knights standing before them. With a sour look on his fat face once more, Germanus slammed the box shut with a resounding thud. This only caused a rage to bubble deep inside of Ragnelle as the Bishop not only disrespected her in a matter of minutes but also the knights she has grown up with. She wanted nothing more than to take the intricate box and smash it over his balding head.

"Come," Lancelot quickly said defusing the tension. "Let's leave Roman business to Romans." Toasting his plain cup once more, he left the room with all the knights and his sister in tow. The last thing Ragnelle heard through her fury was Dagonet scolding Bors once more.

* * *

AN: Yay chapter two! Please read and review and let me know if you like it! I own nothing you recognize except for Ragnelle.

**A VERY LARGE HEADS UP: This story will have suggestive themes that may make certain readers uncomfortable. If you wish to know what to expect from future chapters, DM me and I will give you a simple idea on what themes I may be touching upon and then you can decide for yourself if you wish to continue reading this story. I will not be changing my story to fit other peoples ideas of acceptable.**


	3. Curiosity

**Mature themes in this chapter**

Chapter Three

"Ragnelle?"

"Ragnelle!?"

"What?!" she cried, not noticing that Gawain now stood beside her. She didn't even remember him coming up to match her stride as they left the war-rooms.

"You looked like hell itself had manifested in you," Gawain told her with a chuckle. "What is bothering you little one?" All the knights thought that calling Ragnelle 'Little One' was a term of endearment considering how she was almost half a foot shorter than all of them, but Ragnelle believed that the nickname came from the cruel mind of her brother.

"My dear Gawain," she said looking up at him as they walked with a sinisterly sweet smile. "If you ever call me 'Little One' again I will make sure that the pillar never sees the stones again." The look on her face was maliciously friendly and Gawain couldn't help but know that she was serious about taking apart his manhood. He simply swallowed the nervousness down and nodded before limply laying his arm over her shoulder. They walked in companionable silence, their close proximity making Ragnelle's heart race.

Gawain had begun to notice the womanly changes in Ragnelle about three years into their service. When she came to Hadrian's Wall with her twin at the age of 13, she was a lanky and straight-edged girl who could easily pass as a malnourished boy. However as the years went on, her disguise began to fail as she began to fill out in the hips and breasts. What Gawain heard was that Ragnelle's father planned on marrying her to a man twice her age and she and Lancelot detested the idea. After failing to pull out of the marriage, Lancelot disguised Ragnelle as a boy and snuck her out of his village in the dead of the night when the Romans came to take him away. For three years she passed as the younger brother of the curly-headed womanizer, but by the time she was sixteen the façade was almost up. Gawain had actually caught her bathing in a stream not far from Castellum and the body he saw was all female. Two more years would pass before Arthur would find out the truth after an intense sparring match that cut her chest bindings and showed that she was truly a woman. Their commander, although angry at first, agreed to keep Ragnelle in his troupe of knights due to her intense loyalty and skill with a blade. Five years at pretending to be a boy paid off for Ragnelle as she was allowed to stay with her twin and become the knight that she always wanted to be. The day Arthur announced that she would be allowed to stay and train with her brother was the happiest he had ever seen her. That day he gifted her with the beautiful golden necklace that she currently wore around her neck. She gifted him with his first kiss on the lips.

Looking down at the girl and seeing the golden disk that rested on her bosom, Gawain couldn't help but smile. He knew that he loved Ragnelle with all his heart the day that Arthur found out her secret. He thought that he was going to lose her that day, and losing the brave woman he had spent the last five years with would have killed his heart. Now ten years later, as Ragnelle and Gawain walked in comfortable silence, Gawain knew that he wanted to make their friendship more. He had been with other women, and he is fairly certain that she had been with other men but that didn't matter a thing to him. She was his first crush, his first kiss, and his first love and therefor he wanted to make her his wife. His freedom was so close to his grasp, and after all, the first thing he said he wanted to do was marry a beautiful Sarmatian woman.

"Ragnelle," Gawain whispered.

"Hmmm?" she hummed in response, enjoying the feel of his strong arms over her shoulders and the scent of him invading her nose. He smelled like hay, fresh wine, and rosemary and the mixture was intoxicating.

"Do you plan on getting married once we are free?" he whispered to her. He felt her tense under his arm and stop walking. She stared directly up at him, rigid and stiff in the moonlight. The knight's quarters were only a few paces before them, but the street that they walked on was virtually deserted. Ragnelle looked up at him with large grey eyes that swam with emotions that Gawain could not decipher.

"Why," she asked swallowing, "Why do you ask this, Gawain?" Her voice was no more than a whisper as she continued to stare up at him. Gawain would have laughed at the height difference were it any other conversation.

"Curiosity," he simply whispered to her. His voice was low and husky which sent a shiver down Ragnelle's spine. Gooseflesh appeared on her arms as he removed his arm from her shoulder and moved to stand directly in front of her. Their chests were a hairsbreadth away and each could hear the loud pounding of the others heart. In the dark moonlight Ragnelle's eyes looked unnatural and the light from above bathed her in a eerie silver glow that made her look more fairy than woman. Gawain couldn't imagine a more beautiful sight as he felt nervous yet serine inside.

Unlike Gawain, Ragnelle's blood was hot and swimming in her veins. The inner animal in her was screaming to rip the tunic off the blonde knight in front of her and ravage him until dawn came. The fact that just having Gawain in such a close proximity aroused her made Ragnelle uneasy as another already claimed her. She wanted Gawain in so many ways, but knew that he was a forbidden temptation.

'Gods be damned,' she thought as she tentatively reached up and placed her small hand on his rough cheek. It was warm under her calloused fingertips as her thumb slowly traced the outline of his lower lip. Gawain breathed heavily as he continued to stare deeply into her eyes while her hand slowly caressed the skin on his face.

Ragnelle couldn't stay in their position any longer. She either had to close what little space was between them and capture his lips with hers, or walk away.

She chose the latter.

Removing her hand from his face and breaking all eye contact, Ragnelle looked away and took a step back from Gawain creating a larger space between them. The look on Gawain's face showed disappointment and confusion, and to tore at her heart.

"I need to go. Our brothers will be looking for us," she whispered to him, never looking up at him as she said it. "Tell them that I am going to retire for the night. I am certain that they are at the tavern." With that, she quickly stepped around Gawain and hurriedly retreated towards the knight's quarters. She left the blonde knight that had stolen her heart when she was sixteen standing in the moonlight alone.

* * *

After deserting Gawain, Ragnelle rushed into her chambers, stripped down quickly into a light shift, and laid into her bed. With her golden necklace still upon her chest, mental and physical exhaustion overcame her and she floated into a dreamless sleep.

It only lasted an hour or two before cursing and banging came from the rooms beside her. Bors' had his chambers on the left while Galahad had his on the right and Ragnelle could tell that both were not in happy states based on the yelling and slamming that she heard. Bors was making his anger verbal while Galahad just roared and screamed. She didn't know if she should be amused or worried, thinking that a spat happened between the Sarmatians and the Romans as both groups drank to a stupor in the tavern. Ragnelle lay another few minutes in her bed listening to the anger around her before her door flew open to reveal an equally angry Lancelot.

Sitting up, Ragnelle could barely tell what her brother was saying in his fast rant. She could however pick out the words Roman, Bishop, pompous, Saxon, and Arthur. Ragnelle couldn't help but smirk as her brother paced around the small room.

"What is it now, dear brother?" she asked mirthfully. "Did one of the new Romans take your play thing?"

Lancelot stopped his pacing and turned to look at her laying on the bed with a mischievous look on her face. Unlike his twin, Lancelot looked murderous as he began to stalk slowly towards her. With each step, he got more and more angry until he was standing directly in front of the bed. Like a lion jumps upon its prey, Lancelot sprung over the bed and landed directly on top of Ragnelle. Pinning her shoulders down with his hands and crushing his knees into her legs, Lancelot practically snarled at his twin as their torsos lay mere inches from each other. Her smirk never left her face as she stared directly into his eyes that were a perfect copy of her own.

"You didn't come to the armory," he growled above her. His hot breath fanned her face and Ragnelle couldn't help but slightly squirm under the firm body that crushed her.

"I didn't want to," she said simply, never breaking their intense gazes.

He growled at this and lowered his head towards her. Brushing his nose against her chin, he nipped at her throat causing her yelp. He breathed heavily into her neck as his grip on her shoulders got tighter and she knew that there would be bruises there in the morning. He was practically vibrating with lust and anger at the woman under him. His sister, and his lover, lay seductively beneath him radiating heat that was tantalizing when mixed with her scent of rosemary.

Moving his head to look at her again, Lancelot growled once more before coming down to capture his lips with hers. The electricity that flowed between the two was at a high with Lancelot's anger and her arousal. Their lips danced in a fierce battle while their tongues moved around and tangled in each other. Their bodies were one with no space to separate them. One of Lancelot's hands gripped her shoulder while the other wove into her long black hair. Ragnelle's fingers tangled into her brother's curly locks as she held his head to hers. The hand on her waist began to bunch up the thin white shift that covered Ragnelle's body. He pushed the thin fabric up to her chest exposing her womanhood, causing her to shudder from both ecstasy and anticipation.

Their coupling was slow and passionate. The anger from Lancelot reverberated through Ragnelle and made her whisper his name like a prayer to Arthur's god. Once they were both spent, they lay there in Ragnelle's bed naked and flush against each other. Her head lay resting on his broad chest as he ran his fingers through her long black waves.

"Arthur has given us a final mission," he whispered to her as if the news would make her disappear. He felt her stiffen but she didn't move away from his familiar body.

"What are we supposed to do?" she murmured into her brother's chest.

"We are supposed to escort a Roman family to the wall from the North," he growled. "Saxons are invading. You are staying here at Castellum."

Ragnelle couldn't help but let a small laugh out at her brother's patterns of trying to keep her from the fray. He had always hoped that when Arthur found out that she was truly a woman that their commander would make her stay at the fort. However, much like him, Ragnelle was as stubborn as an ox.

"You know," she purred as she traced circles on her brothers chest, "Gawain almost asked for my hand earlier. I was contemplating saying that he could have me." She traced in the sleek black hairs that adorned his chest, waiting for his response.

He chuckled and she couldn't help the confusion that stirred in her. Was her brother, who for so long had also been her lover, laughing at the idea of another man wanting to take her for his own? Anger began to rise within her at Lancelot's seeming amusement.

"You could say yes," he lightly laughed below her.

"Excuse me?" she couldn't help but ask, malice at her brother's comment dripping from each word.

"I did say I would be spending a lot of time at Gawain's house with his wife," he said mirthfully. Ragnelle couldn't help but also laugh as she began to piece together her brother's double meaning. Laughter resonated between them as they both began to fit into hysterics at the thought of Gawain and Ragnelle married with Lancelot as her paramour. None of the knights knew of their love for each other, and if Gawain was serious about marrying his sister then their children would actually look like him. He knows that Ragnelle is his soul mate and the other half of his heart; after all they came into this world together so they belong together.

After catching her breath from laughing, Ragnelle stood up from the bed, making the covers fall from her naked body. She began to walk away with a delicious swing of her hips that made Lancelot twitch.

"Where are you going?" he asked in a husky tone as he stared shamelessly at his sister's backside. The muscle she gained over the years gave her taut legs that Lancelot loved to admire. She filled out nicely from the meek thirteen-year-old that she was when she came to this island.

"I have to prepare," she said not even turning to look at him as she began to rummage through a trunk, pulling out knives of various lengths. "You all would die without me North of the Wall. I am after all the only one who bothered to listen to the history lessons on the Woads and their language."

Lancelot couldn't help but chuckle at his sister-lover as he laid back into the bed and watched her gather her belongings for the mission, all while naked as the day she was born.

* * *

**So there is my small little twist. Lancelot and Ragnelle's relationship is inspired by that of Cersei and Jamie. However while Jamie has some inkling of straying while Cersei is wholly devoted, Ragnelle is in love with two men while Lancelot is singularly in love with his sister. ****Gawain is an extremely important player in Ragnelle's life.**

**I am contemplating putting in a flashbacks of when Gawain saw her bathing in the stream, and Ragnelle's first romantic encounter with her brother. If there happens to be anything that you would like to see of their pasts in the form of a flash back, just let me know.**


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